


Last Laugh

by Anonymous



Category: Sword Art Online (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aftermath of Sword Art Online, Aincrad (Sword Art Online), Attempted Murder, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Hospitals, IRL, Minor Character Death, Recovery, Revenge, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Being a murderer isn’t easy, but it was easier in game, where shadows aren’t stalking your every step.Laughing Coffin wasn't always Laughing Coffin. And the people inside of it weren't always murderers. Sword Art Online made them this way, and there is no going back.(A character study into Laughing Coffin and how people can become twisted by their circumstances.)
Kudos: 9
Collections: anonymous





	Last Laugh

**Author's Note:**

> This was once a part of a bigger piece of work I wrote, but I removed it because it was a little too dark for that story. I figured it worked well as a one shot, and it was better being posted somewhere than just sitting on my computer. Please let me know what you think!

Maybe, at first, it had started out as just  _ fear.  _ Fear of living, fear of dying, fear of  _ himself _ . . .

The first time he saw someone die, it was a suicide. 

Shouichi Shinkawa never wanted to be trapped in that game. He never wanted to become what he did. It kind of just . . .  _ happened.  _ One moment he’d been just like everyone else, staring out at that great abyss, that endless sky, and  _ wondering.  _

_ If I die here . . . will I really die out there? _

He remembered that day with perfect clarity. The cold stone under his feet, the sheer drop of solid stone, curving outwards and then back inwards to an unseen anchor. The people, standing around him, silent, staring, waiting. Waiting for someone to take that last step . . . 

_ He shivered, the cold wind blowing through his thin beginners shirt. He glanced to his left, where another player stood. The player turned and glanced back, and he could see himself reflected in the other’s eyes. They were both terrified.  _

_ The other player swallowed and then held out his shaking hand, “I think . . . I think it might be better if we both go together.”  _

_ Shouichi hesitated, glancing between the hand, and the other’s face. Here they both stood, together, strangers at the edge of the world, about to face an uncertain future. The other was plain, almost unnoticeable amongst the dozens of other players that had been trapped in this twisted reality. All of their unique features had vanished along with the Kayaba’s echoing farewell. Everyone was simple, normal,  _ human.  _ Ordinary.  _

_ ‘I didn’t come here to be ordinary. I came to escape,’ Shouichi thought and swallowed thickly before taking the other’s hand in a decisive grip.  _

_ “O-okay,” he breathed, “okay. Together.”  _

_ They both turned back to the blue sky and the far away clouds. Sand and grit pebbled down the walls as he slid one foot forward until just the tip hovered over the edge.  _

_ “Together.” _

_ Shouichi thought of his father, the businessman who had never approved of him; his mother, the woman who was never around when he needed her the most; his brother, little Kyouji’s wide eyes staring up at him adoringly.  _

_ ‘If it really wasn’t a lie . . . if we really do die, I will never get to see Kyouji again.’  _

_ Feet met open air, and Shouichi felt something tugging at his hand. He looked over, his eyes dead, and watched the other player fall forward, twisting in his direction with huge, terrified eyes.  _

_ “Wait,” they seemed to say, “Why are you still there? Why didn’t you step forward with me? _ ” 

_ The other’s hand tightened, tugging him toward the abyss gently . . . but Shouichi didn’t grip back. The player’s eyes widened further as he realized what was about to happen. His mouth opened, as if in slow motion, mouthing something to him, but Shouichi didn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear it. His ears were ringing, like the distant sound of bells.  _

_ “Because,” he mouthed silently, begging the other to understand, “I don’t want to die.”  _

_ The other player, he’d never learned his name, reached forward with his other hand, desperate, but it was too late. Shouichi felt his beginner’s glove shift, bend, and then slip off of his hand. He watched the other player gasp, grasping at the air helplessly, as he fell.  _

_ He watched the realization slipping into the other’s eyes, along with betrayal, a single glove grasped tightly in one hand.  _

_ At about the halfway point, Shouichi watched that betrayed face shatter into thousands of blue shards and fade away like so many slivers of glass.  _

The first time he saw death he thought . . . .

_ It’s so pretty.  _

0~o~0

Shouichi never meant to become a murderer. 

The first time he killed someone, it was an accident. Another player had attacked him on his way to one of the outer towns. It was an automatic reaction, after spending several days on the road fighting off the Mobs that would jump out at him from the bushes. His sword flashed outward, and down on the surprised face of his attacker. 

The other was a much lower level than Shouichi was. Probably some greeny thinking that he could catch travelers by surprise and steal a few supplies. 

He never got the chance. 

That night, Shouichi cried himself to sleep, thinking about what he had done. At first he tried to justify it, trying to convince himself that maybe the other hadn’t really died. That he’d woken up, somewhere on the other side, freed from this terrible dream. 

Shouichi didn’t think about how easy it had been. How it had felt to slide his glowing blade through the other’s chest. 

He didn’t think about the pretty blue shards, so different from the monster’s red, that had drifted away in the wind; erasing one more existence from this world. 

That night, shimmering blue flakes haunted his dreams. 

0~o~0

The third time he saw someone die, it wasn’t an accident. 

0~o~0

_ The rain poured over the small town in bucketfuls, drenching anything and everything left unsheltered. Shouichi shivered and huddled further under his dark cloak, clutching the dagger hidden at his side. As much as he hated the bad weather, it was perfect for what he intended.  _

_ He licked his chapped lips, thinking about the reward he’d been offered.  _

_ In the beginning, some players had prospered. They took off for greener pastures, claiming quests and equipment in limited supply. The truth was that there were just too many people for it to go around. And so those that fell behind - those that got a late start - they found themselves scrambling to survive.  _

_ Shouichi hated to admit it, but he had been too late. He’d tried, sure. He’d joined several parties and hunted down packs of wolves, boars, and even some strange plant like creatures, but it was never enough. He wasn’t  _ strong  _ enough.  _

_ There were other things that one could do, though, too boost strength.  _

_ It was a little known fact, but PK gave more experience than killing monsters did. He didn’t really know why, only that it did. Maybe it had to do with the fact that humans were naturally smarter than any of the other monsters. They reacted faster, were able to create traps, and fight back.  _

_ They were a more dangerous quarry than any monster ever could be. And the stronger the player, the more experience points they gave.  _

_ ‘If I don’t want to die, I need to be stronger.’ His hands trembled, ‘No matter the cost.’ _

_ Over the sound of the rain pebbles crunched and Shouichi fell still. The blade steadied, silver gleaming from where it was hidden.  _

_ A cloaked figure stepped out from the forest, hood pulled down over his face and arms hidden under the dark cloth. There were no visible weapons, and Shouichi felt a flash of uncertainty for a moment. Sometimes, no visible weapon could mean a more dangerous hidden weapon. Hidden weapons were hard to deal with, because you had no idea what you were up against.  _

_ But, this could be his only opportunity tonight. This player was alone, unprotected. And with the gap between the most powerful players growing every day, could he really afford to let this opportunity pass? The figure paused, standing just a few meters from Shouichi’s hiding place. _

_ He hesitated, and then fermed his resolve.  _

_ Shouichi’s feet dug into the ground as he lunged forward, dagger at the ready. His eyes focused, and the rain sounded like crashing boulders in his ears. He’d done this before, and he could do this again. First the poisoned dagger, and then- _

_ Cloth twisted, spun,  _ shattered.

_ Silver steel rested gently against Shouichi’s throat and he froze. _

_ “Well well, what do we have here,” a breathy chuckle breezed past Shouichi’s cheek, and the shiver that ran down his spine this time had nothing to do with the cold. “Looks like I caught a little mouse.”  _

_ The blade slid across delicate skin, tugging gently at virtual flesh but never cutting. Not yet. Shouichi twitched, but forced himself to remain still. He’d hit something. He  _ knows  _ he hit something. But it hadn’t been a person.  _

_ The other must have known that he was there, and what he was planning. He’d slipped his cloak at the last second and slid behind Shouichi before he’d even recognized the danger. _

_ Even if he wanted to deny it, he knew why this person was alone tonight, and why he knew that Shouichi was coming.  _

__

_ In this game there was PKing . . . and then there were PKers.  _

_ The hunted, and the hunters.  _

_ “My my,” the voice was smooth, silky,  _ dangerous _ , “What a pretty little mouse you are.” _

_ The blade tilted, catching Shouichi’s eyes as it flashed in the low light. His throat bobbed against metal as he swallowed instinctively, leaving a shallow slice of red glimmering on his skin.  _

_ “W-what do you want,” Shouichi asked stiffly. He wasn’t a PKer. PKer’s went out and killed for fun. For sport. They were murderers in the highest sense. They were  _ dangerous.

_ “Hmm,” the man behind him breathed, and then patted Shouichi on the cheek, “I like your attitude, little mouse.” _

_ One second the blade was nestled against his collar bones and the next he found himself spun around and pushed back slightly. His eyes landed on the man who had held the blade to his throat and he swallowed stiffly. Now that the cloak was gone, he could see the almost  _ crooked  _ tilt to the others smile, and the oily, lengthy hair. In the other’s hands, a huge cleaver knife was held lightly by pale fingertips. _

_ “My name is PoH in this world,” his smile was deceiving, cold, and the look in his eyes could only be described as  _ cunning _. And his name . . . it was an inhuman name, just like everything else in this twisted world. Their world. “How would you like to join my guild, little mouse?”  _

_ His teeth glinted, “You’d fit right in. I can see it in your eyes. You are  _ just like us. _ ”  _

_ Shouichi considered refusing. He considered throwing his knife and running.  _

_ He thought about spinning cloaks and shattering blue pixels and licked his lips nervously.  _

_ “If . . . If I join you, will I get stronger?” _

_ PoH’s smile widened. “You never know until you try,” his eyes turned sinister, like a silent monster looking down at its prey, “But you certainly won’t if you turn away now.”  _

_ Shouichi stood, standing across from this stranger that could have killed him at any moment, staring into the eyes of a predator, and  _ breathed. 

_ “My name . . . my name is Red-Eyed XaXa, but call me XaXa.” _

_ PoH tilted his head and his smile softened. Then he held out his hand. For a single moment, Shouichi remembered another hand, one that he had let slip from his grasp. Another stranger, and a hand shattered into billions of blue fragments . . . _

_ He grasped the hand, and reality returned.  _

_ “Welcome, XaXa,” PoH’s laugh was cold, bone chilling, “to Laughing Coffin.”  _

0~o~0

There was something beeping in his ear. It was loud and obnoxious. Shouichi,  _ XaXa,  _ scrunched up his nose and tried to lift his hand to grab whatever it was that dared to interrupt his sleep. His fingers twitched, but the hand refused to budge. Shouichi frowned and opened his eyes. 

Would have opened his eyes, if it weren’t for the fact that they felt like they were as heavy as bricks. He grunted and tilted his head slightly, feeling something shift with it and the beeping sound increase. Slowly, a pounding headache began to form behind his eyes. 

_ What . . . happened?  _

He remembered the grey walls of his cell. The same cell that he’d been trapped in for  _ months,  _ hunger gnawing at his bones but not physically affecting him because they didn’t really need food in this world. He remembered practicing his sword forms with a broken stick from the mattress, over and over and  _ over  _ again until they became muscle memory. 

_ Grey eyes. Watching comrades fall around him. A promise of revenge . . . _

He remembered . . .

_ “Sword Art Online has been cleared. Please prepare to Log Off.” _

Something shifted besides him, and he heard someone suck in a deep breath. For a moment, the air was still, and then a shaky hand rested over his own as a soft,  _ familiar  _ voice spoke. 

“Brother?” 

Shouichi’s eyes snapped open, only to immediately close again as light hit his pupils for the first time in two years. He  _ recognized  _ that voice. But it was impossible because - 

“Brother!” The smile was bright, but not as bright as it had once been. There was a darker edge to it now, something that Shouichi couldn’t quite place in his dazed state. “You are awake! Wait here, I will go call a nurse!”

The hand left, and he felt cold sweep through him in its absence even as the other ran to the door and poked his head out, calling to one of the passing nurses. 

Even as he was hauled from the bed and the helmet that had trapped him for two years was removed, Shouichi couldn’t comprehend what had happened. This was the real world. The world that he had never expected to see again. The world that he had long since left behind. 

He looked down at his long hair, unwashed and crumpled, draped around his shoulders. He turned his hands, sunken in and boney. 

He looked at his reflection, and saw a stranger in his hollow cheeks and empty eyes. 

“Brother,” Shinikawa Kyouji frowned as he let the spoon of broth he’d been feeding his older brother fall back into the bowl, “Is something wrong?” 

Shinkawa Shouichi,  _ XaXa, _ turned dark eyes to look at the younger brother that he had never expected to see again. The younger brother that had grown so much in the last two years that he almost didn’t recognize him. His mouth turned upwards, ever so slightly.

“Kyouji,” his voice was raspy as he spoke his first words in two years. “I’m a murderer.” 

Plastic hit the floor with a clack, spilling warm broth over the tiles, but Shouichi ignored it, locked back in his own memories. 

_ Grey eyes glared back at him, so full of hate, anger, and  _ fire _. So full of life.  _

He clenched his hands as tightly as he could. 

_ I will find you Kirito,  _ he silently snarled,  _ I will find you, and I will  _ end you _ for taking me from that world.  _

_ Because there is nothing left for me here. _

0~o~0

Kyouji didn’t tell anyone what his older brother said. 

Shouichi would say that he was a little surprised but . . . he wasn’t. There was darkness behind Kyouji’s eyes. A darkness he recognized in his own eyes. 

_ You’re curious, aren’t you? _ Shouichi silently says with his eyes.  _ You’re curious what death feels like. _

_ Yes,  _ Kyouji says back, just as silent. And that’s that. Because that is all it can ever be, in this world. 

Shouichi flexes his arms and feels their lack of strength, even as his mind remembers thousands of movements. Repetition after repetition, drilled into him through months of training, locked behind grey walls of stone and guards. 

He’s grateful, though. Grateful that Kyouji didn’t tell. 

If there is one thing that he’d learned from SAO, it’s that getting caught is worse than death. 

_ Did you know, Kyouji,  _ he smiles crookedly,  _ That I should be dead?  _

_ I am a murderer. _

_ I was never meant to leave Aincrad.  _

0~o~0

He’s a little stronger now. He no longer has to be pushed around in a wheelchair at least. His father still doesn’t look at him in the eyes though. He doesn’t look at either of the brothers. 

Mother is just gone. 

Shouichi doesn’t ask. 

0~o~0

Sometimes, when he is walking down the street, he will see a flash of grey out of the corner of his eyes, the fluff of dark hair, and he spins. But the streets are filled with dark haired men and women, and only unfamiliar faces stare back at him uncomprehendingly. There are no grey eyes in the crowd. 

He continues on. 

He’s trying to go back to who he was before. He’s  _ trying. _ Really. There is no place for XaXa in this world, no place for who he became. His mind is a twisted,  _ twisted _ thing, but he can’t let anyone else see it. He can’t let them know. 

But sometimes his fingers twitch for solid steel under his fingertips, and his heart races during thunderstorms. Because even if Aincrad no longer exists, the people that it created  _ does. _

0~o~0

He finds a small tattoo shop on one of the lesser used streets that he’s taken to wandering lately. They are dark,  _ comfortable,  _ and even with his skinny, emancipated form the locals steer clear of him. It’s like they  _ know _ who he is, what he’s done, just by  _ looking  _ at him. 

It’s probably the eyes. 

He enters, and hears the entrance bell jingle as he steps through the small opening. There is a crash from the back and then a young woman tumbles into view looking frazzled and tired. 

“Wada’ya want?” she rasps, and it’s clear that she’s a heavy smoker by the sound of her voice. She frowns at him and runs her eyes up and down as she settles one hand on her hip and leans against the counter. “Ya don’t really look like my typical customers.” 

Shouichi snorts. Her ‘typical customers’ are likely Yakuza and other small gang members. Large muscles, larger egos. His slim and sunken appearance are probably a bit of a shock to her sensibilities. There is a bit of a stigma about tattoos in Japan. Everyone thinks that you are a criminal if you have one.

Well, lucky for her, he  _ is _ a criminal. Kind of. Does mass murder in another world count? 

“Can you do a custom print?” he asks calmly, keeping his face friendly, just like what he had learned from PoH oh so long ago. 

She chews something in her mouth and her jaw pops. He holds back a twitch. Barely. 

“Depends,” she sighs, “What d’ya have in mind?” 

He hesitates and then carefully pulls a folded paper from his pocket. She holds out her hand demandingly and he gently drops it in her hand, fingertips hovering unsurely over it as she pulls it away. 

_ Last chance,  _ he thinks as she starts to unfold the paper,  _ Last chance to turn away, to just be normal again.  _

She runs her eyes over the design and lifts a brow. “Ya’sure about this? I can do it. It’s just a bit . . . unusual.” 

He’d spent hours on that design, going over it with a pen until every line, every curve, matched what he remembered. A creepy, smiling face with droopy eyes and one skeleton hand, carved into the surface of an open coffin. 

Shouichi swallowed. 

_ What does normal even mean, anymore? _

“Yes,” his voice doesn’t even waver, “I’m sure.” 

0~o~0

“What’s that?” Kyouji asks, staring down at Shouichi’s wrist like it's some kind of puzzle that he just can’t solve. Shouichi tugs at the long sleeved shirt that he is wearing gently to make sure that the dark ink is completely covered by the cloth as he smiles gently back at his brother. 

“It’s nothing, Kyouji,” he comments lightly as he pulls on an outer jacket. Today is another checkup at the hospital, to make sure that his muscles are developing like they should be. He is still weak,  _ far  _ weaker than his mind tells him he should be, but the doctors say that he is making progress in getting back to regular levels of muscle density. 

His father should come with him, but he is busy at work. He’s always busy with work, but Shouichi prefers it like that. 

The ink on his wrist settles heavy on his arm, but it doesn’t feel out of place. In fact, it almost seems to settle something inside of him that he hadn’t realized was missing until he found it again. It was like an anchor, reminding him. 

_ This is who you were. This is who you are. This is who you have become. _

The hospital is one train ride away, but it takes almost a half an hour to get there. Even though he knows that the tattoo won’t mean anything to anyone who isn’t from Aincrad like he is, he still keeps it hidden. You never know who might be watching. 

The hospital itself is just as daunting as it always is. The towering, smooth sides and dark windows stretch skyward. It’s intimidating only because Aincrad had no buildings that were that high. 

Only dungeons. 

The inside of the hospital smells of cleaning solutions. Shouichi wants to wrinkle his nose at it. Really, for how many times he has come back for a checkup, you’d think that he’d be used to it by now. He checks in at the front desk and then sits down to wait for a doctor to call him in. He doesn’t wait long. 

His doctor today is Dr. Phan, an older lady with gentle laugh lines around her face. He’s worked with her before when he first started doing physical therapy, and it’s almost routine to answer her questions as they walk. 

_ Do you have any pain when you move your arms?  _

_ No.  _

_ How about your legs? How long can you walk without getting tired? _

_ Around two to three hours.  _

_ What about - _

A door at the end of the hall that they are walking through opens as a dark haired youth slips out, closing the door behind him with a soft  _ click. _

Shouichi’s heart freezes and he chokes on his own breath. 

He’s different. Of course he is. The distinctive black-leather cloak is missing. As are the swords and other weapons usually decorating his person, but there is no mistaking him. 

The slightly long black hair parts over grey eyes as the other slips past, not even pausing to glance at Shouichi, a troubled look on his face. 

Shouichi’s mouth parts into a slightly bloody smile, never realizing that he’d bitten into his bottom lip. 

The doctor is concerned. He can hear it in her tone of voice as she turns to ask him why he’s stopped. He doesn’t bother to answer, though, because his thoughts are in turmoil. There is only one clear thought, drifting to the forefront of his mind. 

_ I’ve found you - _

He’s real. Just like Aincrad was real. Just like SAO was real. None of it was just some twisted dream like he’d started to fear -

_ Kirito.  _


End file.
